Celebration of the Birds

The last few years, I was worried about what had happened to the songbirds.  We weren’t getting many birds at our sunflower feeder at all; and only a few species were represented.  We do see five different woodpecker species all year round, attracted by a suet feeder and by our Emerald Ash Borer infected trees.  But our feeder visitors were limited to goldfinches, chickadees and a few nuthatches.

This has been a banner year so far; and I have no explanation for why we have enjoyed this change.  We have at least three pairs of Rose Breasted grosbeaks; two pairs of Baltimore orioles, at least one pair of cardinals, flocks of bright Goldfinches, an Indigo Bunting and have seen several bluebirds, although not at the feeder.

The singing goes on from dawn to dusk, the bright cheerful sounds drowned out only when the Sandhill cranes get riled up about something.  The crane nest is just over a stone’s throw away, but I always have to look hard to see it.  It’s low in a wet area choked full of last year’s cattails, brown and broken.  The brooding bird, large as it is, tucks its head down low and with its khaki -colored feathers and rounded back, looks exactly like a stone poking out of the wetland; just like nearby real stones look.

I also love the song of the Red-Winged Blackbirds who nest in the wetlands.  They have a liquid trill; they are one of the most beloved sounds of spring for me.  Before serious nesting started, a flock of them occasionally came to the patio to pick seeds spilled below the feeder, but once they are guarding nests, they no longer stray far from their home.

Today I watched a grosbeak, sitting on a branch awaiting space at the feeder.  A brisk wind moved the slender branch back, forth, up and down; pitching wildly.  The bird was not the least disturbed; it rode like a skilled bull rider on a twisting, bucking bull.  I am not prone to sea or air sickness; but it gave me a bit of nausea just following the wild ride with my eyes.  A bird’s sense of centering balance is a miracle to behold.

Mike has an “app” on his phone (there are a few different ones available,) that can “hear” bird sounds, and tell you what specific bird made that call.  It’s been a revelation, as he reels off a list of eight bird calls he captured while walking the dogs; birds we had no idea were in our woods.  Some woodland birds are very wary and unlikely to appear somewhere we could get a good look, or take a picture to research identification.  I am endlessly amazed at cell phone technology.

It is ironic that we find peace and relaxation in watching birds at a feeder; because I seldom see a bird I’d call “relaxed” at ours.  They are constantly scanning above for aerial predators, and below for terrestrial ones.  That’s on top of watching for bigger/more dominant or aggressive birds.  It’s not “peace and love” at our feeder, it’s constant conflict.  Birds of the same species quarrel, with males chasing off females (except for their own mate) and some species are dominate bullies.  It has got to be stressful, being prey for so many bird killers.  When we concentrate birds by feeding them, we are inviting the attentions of those hunters.

I wasn’t a fan of birdwatching when I was younger.  I was a bit puzzled by people who were passionate about it.  As I have aged, I have come to see birds and bird feeders differently.   The visiting birds now seem like “missionaries” sent to those who are homebound, lonely, or ill.  They come to entertain and cheer those no longer able to go outdoors in search of the birds, or other wildlife in the woods or fields.  

I welcome commentary, alternative viewpoints or ideas at this e-mail address:  JanieTMartin@gmail.com 

Janie Thibodeau Martin